tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25225250734933350352018-03-06T08:15:17.594-08:00aDzaDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-89294937119973639402015-08-04T23:42:00.002-07:002015-08-04T23:42:21.069-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What is rare is the willingness to listen. What is rarer is the willingness to understand. With listening comes the desire to understand. With understanding comes respect. A beautiful bond often develops out of such respect between humans, which can rightfully be called love —or at least something close to it. It is apparent I couldn't resist the cynical temptation to not idealise love, but that temptation is much necessary I think as such pure humanity without an ounce of cynicism is too dangerous to oneself. In a way, my inner cynic is the guardian of my inner humanitarian. This I say not as an attempt to glorify my cynic but to notify the sheer vulnerability of my humanitarian. Why guard my weak humanitarian you may ask. Why turn myself into a monster I may answer.</span></span></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-64931920654876058542014-07-26T08:42:00.003-07:002015-01-11T09:44:11.315-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #e06666;">"She has lush lips</span></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">—They talk sense; address absurdity; swing deliberately with insouciant dances and jarring jocularity; exhibit uninterested profundity and profanity; morph her countenance into a benign, demented child from their whimsical and nosy laughters; and castigate casually slippery simpletons. Their variegated performances spur my senses and allure my attention."</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><br /></span></span> <span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #e06666;">“Your current life is characterised by incessant slumber and a few awake moments. You easily know the nature of your sleep; the detrimental qualities of your cosiness. Yet you let yourself lie and perish, for your spirits are too sleepy.”</span></span></div><b id="docs-internal-guid-51fd012d-7355-c7f0-fab7-81a043c3876e" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><br /></span></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #e06666;">“A rather chirpy, gay busybody once ponderously—and honestly—asked me in a disinterested intrigue what do I want in life at all, for which I exhilaratingly replied, “I am hounding with greed-filled eyes for unprecedented joy, possessing full awareness of its bleak possibility.”</span></span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><br /></span></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #e06666;">“Insidious inhibitions interrupt and injure my writing cascade. I limp like a crippled lizard, yet am covetous enough to hunt an exuberant gadfly. I stage this travesty—or perhaps tragedy—often.”</span></span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><br /></span></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #e06666;">“See I am warming up; my jaws are relaxing; my buttocks are relaxing; I have slid down in my sitting posture like stoned Al Pacino. You must believe I am not nervous, especially after presenting you with such compelling evidence.”</span></span></div><span style="color: #e06666;"><br /><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Donning, or even adorning, frivolous or facetious persona at the time of serious and substantial intentions makes me very uncomfortable and sometimes outrages me indignantly—cerebrally, viscerally, carnally.”</span></span><br /><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span> <span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"The transition of boredom to ennui is at once disastrous, delightful, and thus bitterly rich!"</span></span><br /><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span> <span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"I'm composing a 5000-page tome that starts like this: There is a deceptive apple pie for every beggar out there."</span></span><br /><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span> <span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Some of my most pleasurable solitudes have been in a noisy crowd full of dancing strangers."</span></span><br /><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span> <span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"More than the mere fact of delineating harsh truths</span></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">—harsh for yourself or others</span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">—it is the manoeuvring attitude of the act that determines the harshness of the entailments."</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span> <span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria;"><span style="font-size: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"You're a keen and inquisitive listener who deliberately rides on a facetious</span></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">—sometimes factitious</span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">—and frivolous facade."</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span> <span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"The unspeakable and unbearable burden begotten from a relationship with another person that is essentially driven by possessive love is existentially very unsettling."</span></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-25704464361490207472014-07-26T08:03:00.002-07:002014-12-29T10:28:01.220-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"The dizziness to which my mind is writhing because of the endless shots of espresso I gulped, is at once cosy, melancholy, and pathetic. My eyes are blurred—part deliberation, part biological. But—amidst all this—I must express my gratitude to the yellow lights illuminating this room, for what better a companion could I ask for in such a muddle." </span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-51fd012d-7333-de01-d27a-cb29e39438a7"><br /></span></div><br /></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-36286136081288901412014-01-01T09:51:00.000-08:002015-01-08T07:27:08.887-08:00Overwhelmed Ode to Visages<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="background-color: #f1c232;">Visage #1</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: #f1c232; color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />Her face poses an austere threat of brusque shunning in one's attempt to trespass into it; wise men, though, may doubt a forlorn mellow soul hiding behind that shunning iron cast, susceptible to injury by even the bluntest of thorns from the faintest of forces. The angular offence her face renders to the frivolous fishermen,&nbsp;shines in glory like that of a matte metal used only in creating weapons to the bleakest of wars waged by the noblest of ethereal beings.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: #f1c232; color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><b>Visage #2</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: #f1c232; color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />The subtlest of satires conceived from the sheen of her sheer smirk and flows mellifluously along the sharp lines of her crimson lips, fails never to encounter in serendipity the cherubic charm it inherently possesses, which my aesthetician had adroitly captured upon the first glimpse. Marked by a sharp alarm, the humanitarian in me screams a disclaimer every time to attach an alertness for the wellbeing of covetous cretins about the scathe of the vilest scourge her face may pull out upon their feeblest falter. Legend has it the rapturous dances of her vivacious mouth intrigues even a devoted ascetic wielding a meticulous meditation.</span><br /><span style="background-color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span> <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Visage #3</b></span></span><br /><span style="background-color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br /></b></span> </span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f1c232;">Posing as coy as a plagued lamb amidst a crowd of rattling noises; rampant carnivals; outrageous inventions; odious euphemisms, sin it may be startled by my religious compeers, loss by my capitalist neighbours, tragedy by poets, despondency by impoverished aspirants,&nbsp;</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">to overlook the scintillation her&nbsp;façade forts. A scintillation shamefully deserted by the shallow ogles of dizzy creatures in the plethora of existences; a scintillation as vivid as a replica beholden intimately and lusciously by a raving narcissist&nbsp;</span></span><span style="background-color: #f1c232; color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">of oneself</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: #f1c232;">.&nbsp;The scintillation commands earthly shimmers to shy away and demands to dictate cosmic luminosity. Exhaustion from the expended energy in my raging reverence sedates my gleeful glares only to bring out the absolute revelation to my attention. A revelation that glistens in grandeur; a revelation only the greediest adventurer dare dreams; a revelation that unveils the epitome of enchantment</span></span><span style="background-color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">—</span></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">her lips</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">—</span></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ephemeral yet eternal.</span></span></div><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span> <span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-3793388841417048112013-12-31T15:14:00.001-08:002015-01-08T07:32:34.786-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="background-color: #ffd966; color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I will loathe the very core of my existence, upon weariness, if I explain about myself more than three times--to others or to myself. I explained more than three hundred times today, to her; I am soaked in a sewage load for years, I feel; my brain corrugated from excrement smear, I feel; silence shall dictate me for another thousand years, I feel; treason I committed to the fleeting beauty of my words, I feel; shrunken and exhausted, I feel.</span><br /><span style="background-color: #ffd966; color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span> <span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Time and age make my life all the more a farce to the already underlying absurdity it carries. Only doesn't the farce bring a laugh with merriment, but a faint smile of moroseness. Quantifying insults my vagueness. Solidity shall reign but in the land of ideality, for my reality ostracised it. </span></span></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-50386335170699770792013-11-28T11:23:00.001-08:002013-11-28T11:23:17.969-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Reminiscence is a respite from your existential burden.&nbsp;</div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-64737877833152305772013-08-04T12:53:00.003-07:002013-08-04T12:53:46.163-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I feel like a miscellaneous barf of all the vulnerable personalities of my life's metamorphosis.&nbsp;</div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-2784035742854739572013-07-22T09:56:00.001-07:002015-01-08T07:33:33.284-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"My mind is playing intellectually vicious tricks. Pound me under your tyranny only to send shivers down my spine and have me risen from my cosy and seductive grave--Bludgeon me!"</span></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-22140619502897938052013-07-21T13:28:00.001-07:002014-12-29T10:44:56.009-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">If you put simple thoughts in a simple fashion, you're called a simple person. If you break down a complex thought to present the multiple elements of the conglomerate and&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">provide deeper clarity</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">, people feel perplexed by the heap of the broken fragments and thus call you a complex person when indeed they must call you a simpler person. But if you feign a complex thought by dishonestly representing it in a simplistic form of meagre fragments, people revere you for rendering brevity and clarity. I can't see who is a bigger fool</span><span style="line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">—</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">the</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> people or the illusionist.</span></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-63891035987912932852013-07-04T12:54:00.002-07:002013-07-04T12:54:14.959-07:00LOOP<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;">Look but don't indulge;</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;">Indulge but don't confound;</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;">Confound but don't conform;&nbsp;</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;">Conform but don't look.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17px;">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;- <i>aDz</i></span></span></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-54628875028788233992013-01-23T01:57:00.003-08:002013-06-09T12:46:01.246-07:00CATHARSIS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">A magnanimous gush! A vent in full throttle! A blast of a volcano! That was how he threw up his emotions in a sob, all at once. Then his tears stabilized like flat water: Flowing serenely. The calmness in its pace brought a peace in him to render solace. The flow of the tears was endless without a possible drain. A song of melancholy was playing in an acute tone at the background. A sudden frown, with a discomfort at his bosom, shook his soul and he woke up in a jerk as if lightning struck straight into his gut. A momentary stare around his room dripped out his dream slowly, bringing him to reality. The bright sunray perfectly pierced his left cheek whilst sitting up from lying and made him wonder if nature was a genius archer. His eyes were moving so steadily, and even his peripheral vision was sharply alert. His mind was in perfect peace with his body at that very moment. He remembered that he had a meeting with his friends at a nearby café, which he had evaded for a long time and now was forced to attend. He immediately got up from the bed and wanted to bathe. Even though he was reluctant to meet his friends, he always made sure he left his home fresh and aromatic. He started bathing but was extremely preoccupied with the dream that shook him moments ago. He was able to remember even little details of the dream with the utmost clarity. He was totally absorbed in the contemplation of the dream. <o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“ 'You are a poseur!' he ruthlessly uttered to the thing standing in front of him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">'You are an enigma!' replied, the thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">He was standing in front of a grotesque figure. It was tall, brawny, intimidating, with broad shoulders and a phantom mask. It had crooked left ear and lifeless dry hair to the length of its shoulders. No matter how hard he tried to recall, he couldn’t remember the attire it wore. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">'You are an enigma!' replied, the phantom. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">He became too proud on listening to those words and tried hard to conceal his smile. He was unsure for a moment of what to reply. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">'People often say I’m complicated' he replied.”<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">He prepared French toast. It was his usual breakfast, and he always felt it was neat to have a French toast for breakfast. He was continually munching the dream whilst eating. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“ 'I’m a man of my own solid virtues and I try to live devoid of vices and often people say that I’m too complicated for them to understand or even have a conversation with” he was opening up with the phantom, in a bragging tone. He continued “I live for my own happiness and try to achieve it by living up to the values I cherish, in my daily life. But I’m not a hedonist'. But he instantly felt that he opened up too much which were unasked for. So he decided to balance it by asking a question to the phantom. 'What is your definition of life?' he asked.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">He reached his café by that time. He spotted his friends sitting at a distance from the place he stood. He always felt awkward as to what reaction he should give from the moment he spotted his friends till he walks the distance to reach them. But that thinking itself had always engaged him till he fills the walking gap. His contemplation of the dream was contaminated after he mingled with his friends, but the dream did not perish. As he got casual slowly with his friends and the surroundings, the dream contemplation grew intense again. His friends asked him the choice of food he’d like to order. Despite any deep mental engagements, he always paid heed to choose the food he eats. He ordered the dish he wanted to savour, and continued with the contemplation. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“ 'Do you know that it takes a thousand years to understand certain humans?' said the phantom to him. But even without any specific mention of his name, he almost came to a conviction that the phantom considered him to be one among those 'certain humans'. Now with more pride, gratitude, and friendliness, he asked the same question again. 'What is your definition of life?' ”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">A fat guy from his gang--who himself believed was a loser--interrupted the dream contemplation by a loud whine. “The world is full of shit and all the people behave shitty!” he cried. “If the world is full of shit, why do you think we need septic tanks?” commented, rather stupidly--with a deliberate intent of making fun, by the jester in his gang. The jester laughed so hard to his own joke, and every other person in his gang was too empty to avoid accompanying that laugh. He got annoyed by the plastic laughs of his friends. He felt an urge to tap the shoulder of the guy sitting in the corner of his table and shout at him, “Are you laughing at all?” But he was sitting still like a statue without an expression. To his surprise, a girl expressed an idea out of the blue. An idea that she claimed might entertain the gang. She said that everyone shall say something random. They can say any random lines which&nbsp;</span><span style="line-height: 18px;">needn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;even make sense, and everyone would have their turn in an order, she explained. He was very much excited about that idea. He always loved to blabber random absurd lines in solitude, and he thought it would be exciting to do the same with people around. They started it with the very girl who proposed the idea. She said instantly as if she already had the random line in mind, “Lost in a paradise city only to find that I’m lost in a paradise city.” Everybody was trying to say something, and it made the gang cheer up from its numbness. Some were sloppy; some, instantaneous; some, funnier. He was so much engrossed in the thought of the art of random quotes and privately enjoying it without paying much attention to the gang. He got alerted by his friends when his turn arrived. He, without much thought, stated with complacency, “Skin heads don’t scare me because I don’t see them!” He didn’t even bother about the reactions of his friends and continued his random quote contemplation and it slowly shifted back to his dream contemplation. It made him instantly gloomy. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“ 'What is your definition of life?' he inquired the phantom, after hiding his intrigue for quite some time. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">'When you splash a watermelon, you get apple juice. That’s life,' the phantom replied. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">'I did not understand you. Not one bit!' he uttered with confusion.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">'Well…' said the phantom. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">'But, give me a clue, at least.' He pleaded in desperation to prove his intelligence. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">'Decipher those lines in the literal fashion. Don’t ask more,' ordered the phantom. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Taken aback by the intimidating voice, he went silent with embarrassment as he couldn’t figure it out. The phantom took a long pause, staring deeply into his eyes, and sizing his body, said, 'Well, I lied to you about the enigma part. And also, it doesn’t take a thousand years but a few minutes. Goodbye' and walked away swiftly with a strut. He felt shattered, and his pride broken irrevocably into pieces. He felt himself to be a disgusting maggot. A magnanimous gush! A vent in full throttle! A blast of a volcano! That was how he threw up his emotions in a sob, all at once. Then his tears stabilized like flat water: Flowing serenely. The calmness in its pace brought a peace in him to render solace. The flow of the tears was endless without a possible drain. A song of melancholy was playing in an acute tone at the background.”<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">He grew so vulnerable after that contemplation. He felt like a cretin. Although the dream ended there, he still deliberately, subconsciously, continued it by fantasizing. He heard the voice of the phantom in his head and it said “When you peel off there should be a pulp, not a rotten seed.” He started getting annoyed by the voice. To divert his mind he tried to pay attention to his friends. He saw one of his friends fervently talking to the fellow members: “Friends, we all are together for a long time. We have been through lots of happier and sadder times. We have loved each other like a family. I think we all are same. What do you say, fellas? I say, we all are same--alike. Else, we couldn’t be glued together with love for so long.” Already in an annoyed mood, he felt very much taunted to reply harshly to that guy, and did the same: “All can’t be same, and if they appear to be same then they’re indeed not same and sane.” His gang got totally uncomfortable by his cold comment for a compassionate statement. But nobody mentioned anything about it. “When you peel off there should be a pulp, not a rotten seed.” He heard those words of the phantom again and again like getting hammered. Those words were hitting him continuously in a frenzy. The jester in the gang saw his preoccupied state and started teasing him for daydreaming. The jester was repeatedly making fun of him and still he didn’t notice that. He was getting baffled by the voice in his head. As the voice was approaching his saturation point, he was in total annoyance. The jester--since he wasn’t noticing the tease--started literally shaking his shoulders. He was being continuously shaken and simultaneously the voice in his mind was reaching his mental saturation. At the point when it reached his saturation, he shouted aloud at the jester “I will give you layers to peel off until your thirsty hands fall off!” The jester was in complete shock. He didn’t say a word more. All the other gang mates threw him an awkward look. He became restless, and his eyes were inconsistently moving with a drowsy appeal. He felt an urge to grasp himself with introspection. But his friend interrupted him with his interrogation:<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“You don’t talk to people" his friend said. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Okay" he replied with an indifferent tone. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“No. I mean, you sometimes don’t talk to people like a civilized human” clarified, his friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Well, I remember saying ‘Okay’ ” he continued, with his indifference. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“No, it’s not okay. I’m asking you why” expressed the dismay, his friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“When I have nothing to talk, I’d rather not talk” he replied in an intention to end the conversation. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“But you see, you got to talk to people” advised his friend, persistently. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t you think that’s rather stupid of you?” he replied, shutting the conversation rudely. The gang was infuriated by his erratic behavior. But he brushed aside all the awkwardness and tried so hard to gather all his energy to introspect. After a long time, his profound introspection of his current mindset gave him results. He read out the results to himself like a newsreader, in a hushed tone. “A sudden hit by an unusual happiness, racing to its pinnacle followed by a shocking total downfall into an abysmal bottom, leading to a tearless sob, wearing you down mentally as well as physically, leaving you with a heavily dizzied head, only to be followed by the same pattern again. That is exactly what you feel when you get haunted by the word ‘Genius’. Like oil injected in a gallon of water, you’re sitting in this café with variety of living and non-living entities all around. Observance and eavesdrop are your favorite recreations in this crowded desert. And when you grow totally dark, you’re in a constant state of Catharsis with ‘Genius’. You couldn’t help but get deeply bonded in its communion and get strangled in a powerful spell of Catharsis. You’re getting heavily smothered by it and are trying to mix with water. But, alas, You fail every single time!”<o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Immediately after listening to his introspection results, his mind shouted to him “Run! Run! Run!” He wanted to escape from his friends and indulge in solitude. This time he decided to do it diplomatically. He, then, gradually adorned a civilized masquerade. He tried to warm things up, in the gang. He relaxed his grimace and started talking casually with his friends. “You know what, people? A fellow was once whining to me that life was teaching him lessons he didn’t want to learn. You know what I said to him? I said “Come on, man. So did my teachers, back in school. The point is, you listen to them or not," he shared the joke to his gang. Surprised by his warmth his gang mates started smiling slowly. He continued his friendliness for some more time and came out with his alibi that he had to leave immediately as he wanted to take care of his sick mother, and this allowed him to slip out of that place without any awkward moment. He was satisfied with his casual departure. He knew exactly where he wanted to go: A movie theatre; that’s exactly where he was headed. Movie theatre was one of the most private places for him to indulge in a self love making. He boarded a train to take him to the nearest theatre. The train wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t vacant either. He was eagerly travelling in the train with his deep thoughts and so he failed to notice anything around him. He let out a big sneeze all of a sudden. “Excuse me," he said almost as a reflex action to maintain the social etiquette. That aroused his deeper self in temptation to butcher himself with its bluntness. “Whom do you want to excuse you? If you want someone to excuse you for your uncontrollable bodily functions, how pathetic are you? If someone expects an apology for the same, how shallow are they? So now, do you really want to apologize to some shallow headed snob for a pathetic reason?” He was astonished by the back to back questions. He realized he grew darker and he awarded himself for it. But then his deeper self spoke to him again, thus: “Multitude of solitude! So it’s the majority of my fragments. The consensus is screaming in dark. Now is the minority been overshadowed? Should I scream or mourn?” Immediately following his deeper self was the voice of the phantom. It spoke to him: “You talked about virtues and vices, so I’d like to convey unto you this: “Many a values are an illusion, for they’re mostly a paradigm for our subconscious entertainment in the form of an organized self.” He can’t stand the attacks anymore. He felt like he’d pass out anytime sooner. Sensing this, the phantom decided to entertain him and spoke thus: “Do you want to know how alien you’ll look in the eyes of an alien? Do this simple exercise: Look deeply into your face in the mirror and get engrossed in the contemplation rather than your face, and then you’ll be lost. You’ll get oblivious to your own existence momentarily. Then, knock your soul to get back on track. The first few moments of your behold, after the knock, will be the ones when you witness the face of an alien.” He was amused. This relaxed his trying mind and body. <o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Silence! Grave Silence! That was what he observed upon entering the theatre. Sparse audience; he dwelt comfortably. He was slowly getting absorbed by the grave silence around him, and he dissolved in the ambiance. The opening credits of the movie started rolling and that made him sure what brought him to that place. The feeling he experienced said it all. He felt a controlled inner breakdown. If he could picturize it, it’d be like a juice oozing from the squash of a bisected orange: citric yet mellow. He was having an intense romance with the ambiance. He was perfectly dark. His fantasy took a whole new elevation at that moment. He saw the phantom’s silhouette standing towards the right corner of the screen, with its hands folded. But its face was clearly visible: white and lustrous. He was, by then, perfectly drowned in his surreal world. All that existed were the phantom, the surroundings, the passive screen, and his soul. He could clearly see the invisible smirk in the face of the phantom, and this time he was sure it wasn’t a satire. A casual shift of focus from the phantom to the screen took him by surprise. What he saw was grandeur. He saw infinite number of unidentifiable musical instruments waiting to be conducted by none other than the <i>Genius</i> itself. Now he got totally prepared to witness the show staged by <i>Genius</i>. In a soft pace, with sufficient intervals, every instrument warmed up with its own music. By this time he was already mesmerized with still eyes. He felt like he had jumped into the sky. The deeper he fell the faster he travels. The pace of the music played by every instrument started getting faster and faster, but without any interruption from the other, and so did his mental vision clarity. He was able to cope with the magical pace by growing deeper in the same pace. Suddenly, in an act of testing his potential of his vision clarity, and also transcending to divinity, the music of the instruments collided with each other without exhibiting any apparent pattern. Yet he was able to closely travel with them as a spectator. He could feel his mind growing to a newer depth. But he was unsure of its mileage. At a point of time, his soul was unable to sit composedly and started walking away from him only to wander restlessly. As the music complexity grew even more, his soul can’t help but dance. It amused him by inventing variety of new dance styles. But the amusement didn’t last long, for the soul got drowned into coping with dancing for the rapid rhythm of <i>Genius</i>’ <i>composition</i>. It started getting alerts of the approaching satiation. Like a fiend running towards the pinnacle of a mountain, he danced. He danced <i>deeply, soulfully, fiendishly, passionately, nostalgically</i>. As the satiation was with close proximity, his feet, with a rhythm, moved swiftly towards the phantom. <i>Genius</i> was exhibiting its extreme energy in conducting. His soul was transforming into a fiend. He was a fiend at last when the <i>Genius</i>hit the bottom of the abyss. He--sitting all this time watching the soul--stilled the moment. The music drowned into absolute silence. He beheld the stillest hour of his life. He was heavily hit by the <i>majestic</i> appeal of love from the witness. The stillest hour bestowed him that beautiful image. An image of his soul kissing the voluptuous lips of the phantom, deeply and darkly.&nbsp; His mental faculties were unable to grasp the whole intensity of his reverence for the Genius in the face of the phantom. Like a perfect naked woman to the profuse libido of a hermit, he was continuously beholding that stillest hour with a luminous lust. He started getting suffocated by the smothering beauty of what he witnessed and feared it, for he saw a potential of death in that suffocation. He was in chaos; the ultimate chaos. He now forgot every single thing around him--including himself--only to literally stand up and shout till the extreme bottom of his stomach. He shouted out all his <i>misery; passion; compassion; suffocation; love; urge; vulnerability; strength;</i>&nbsp;he shouted till he exorcised every whit of his suppressed sediments; he shouted till he made peace with the phantom; he shouted till his thirsty dark soul fainted; he shouted “CA-THAR-SIS!!!” Emptying all his nausea made him feel as light as a bird’s feather floating in free air. He could see people around him. He could see the dresses he wore. He could see the end credits of the movie, rolling in the screen. And, he could see the phantom in the same corner. The fresh energy of his mind tempted him to ogle nature and its effects with frolicking eyes. He overlapped the gay smirk of the phantom, from the distance. He was shaking his head and tapping his feet to the joyous music of the end credits--<i>stylistically</i>. He was enjoying being a hopeless romantic. Slowly as the crowd disappeared, he started moving towards the phantom. He reached the phantom and clasped its hands, and they strolled to the outer world. They strolled melodiously. They strolled towards the horizon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Faintly there heard a conversation: <o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Musicians smoke <i>marijuana</i>, I heard, whilst conceiving their own music piece. What do you think?” asked the phantom, rather casually, to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Yeah, I’ve heard about it, too” replied, he, with an interest. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">There was a momentary pause. After a little pondering frown by the phantom, it asked “What do you think was Beethoven smoking whilst conceiving ‘<i>Moonlight Sonata</i>’?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Without even a tinge of delay, he gaily shouted “He must have been smoking <i>Natural Genius</i>!”</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-78798759148270580402012-11-23T11:04:00.001-08:002014-12-29T10:04:30.461-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="background-color: white; color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whilst I am obliging truth, </span><br /><div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline;"><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shall I convince myself </span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">To bestow upon you</span></div><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria;"><span style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The essence I dug deep </span></span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria;"><span style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">From my chaste bosom?</span></span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria;"><span style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">In denial cries my ego,</span></span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria;"><span style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And thus to me a lie is beautified!"</span></span></div></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-77165951484535114802012-11-23T11:02:00.001-08:002015-01-08T07:47:57.962-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Behold the moment, for </span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The guest withers away</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not long after its comfortable dwell.</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Reminiscence, now again, </span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">For the guest, is a new moment, </span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">If at all you wonder its nature. </span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">What can be a greater greed than</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">You feeble try to imprison </span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The gigantic seducer, your guest?</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And a folly it is too, for</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cripples catch not lightning, </span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">You blind paupers! </span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rest your thirsty palms&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Calmly </span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">on your flushed cheeks</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And </span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">wait. </span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wait until the guest, </span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Who roars and renders its aroma</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unto you upon its arrival, arrives.</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wait until you helpless souls</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wear out of a sheer predicament</span><br /><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21.8500003814697px; white-space: pre-wrap;">For the guest; the saviour; the seducer!"</span></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-43300898647222609492012-11-06T14:19:00.000-08:002013-04-15T16:10:14.962-07:00NARCISSISM<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal">The slanting rays of the sun that was about to set, was sliced into fragments by the horizontal bars of the windows and they rested cozily on the floor. Lying down, facing the window, he was, for a long time, vaguely gazing at the crystal clear dust cloud, dancing in the path of the golden rays. As much seductive as it can get, only it&nbsp;didn't&nbsp;evoke a poet in him, but a profound solitude. He&nbsp;wasn't&nbsp;baffled by smothering thoughts, but instead, was too numb to be prone to thinking. Awareness hit him only in bits &amp; pieces, every now &amp; then, making it difficult for him to provoke his mind into introspection. A grotesque sadness pierced his heart in an&nbsp;ultra-slow&nbsp;pace, puncturing it with supreme clarity. The moist-soaked heart excruciatingly oozed out a sour fluid and it hit his mind like a pin-prick. Awoke from his numbness, he realized, he was completely drowned into a poignant grief. It was a desperate crave for a woman’s touch which let him into that gloomy solitude, he learned. Encountering loneliness with an utter despair, his mind started hallucinating itself, deliberately, with a woman fondling him already. Furthermore, in the realm of his fantasy, he teleported himself into the imaginary woman’s soul and started feeling every whit of sensuality in touching his very own body, in the perspective of that woman. He slowly ran his fingers through his body, exploring it like a stranger, whilst his soul was half-torn and placed both in his real &amp; imaginary domain. In an impulse, his consciousness rose him up, and his feet trotted towards the mirror, in the pursuit of supplying his libido, with better visuals. His creative mind was eased by being bestowed upon the mirror-image, allowing his imaginary woman to dwell comfortably in his real self, without the effort of a new creation and the replica served as a replacement for his real body. This glued his bisected soul, placing it wholly in the imaginary woman’s self, which in turn was dwelling in his real self. What he failed to realize was that the imaginary self totally overlapped the real one and hid it. This deluded his brain that the replica in the mirror was a stranger. Gone oblivious to the nature of his sexuality, the soul in his imaginary self was lured heavily by the stranger resting in the mirror. His eyes crawled slowly on every single part of his body in the replica and ogled it with a superfluous awe, as it was supplied with an uncanny feel from what it witnessed. With its hopeless adoring, his soul in the imaginary self was feeding his craving, subconsciously. With his crave getting satiated slowly, the fantasy started dissipating and at last the haunted imagination got exorcised. In a minute’s time, he regained his soul in his real self, to find out that he was standing aloof from mundane, in the ghastly twilight and that froze him still, until his cognition grasped the nature of the whole process. Washing out even a tinge of fantasy left in him, he stood naked in front of reality, helplessly. As much loathsome he grew of his narcissistic self, there aroused a startle in him, for, his veteran solitude has had the potential to unveil such a bizarre fantasy of he copulating with himself, to sedate his hopeless craving and thus letting his solace befriend his narcissism. His mouth cried but two words, “INFINITE ME!”&nbsp;</div><br /><br /></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-36791432713185164232012-10-22T04:47:00.001-07:002012-10-22T04:47:50.028-07:00QUEST<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormal">“”Why don’t I own a piece of it, too?!” His mind intrigued, with a question. Even though it was the most discussed about, most raved about and most searched thing among the generations of mankind, he was never hungry to find one, until that very moment when the question was raised in his mind out of the blue. But he, without a dilemma, knew where to start his quest. He had seen peoples of different parts of the world, flocking like herds to that region, where they rest and discuss and discover what they came for. He was always familiar with the façade of the region. But the path to destination was one big ambiguity prevailed in his mind over the years. Without a moment’s delay, his feet trotted towards the region and it ended up standing &amp; gazing at the façade of it. The image was too familiar for his memory. Yet his latest perception amazed him with a fresh new outlook. He was always taken aback by the congestion of the peoples rushing into the entrance, which made him least interested to step in. This time he&nbsp;couldn't&nbsp;care less about the peer crowd. To his wonder he entered into it without any trouble despite the rush of a huge crowd and all the men inside were much too fervent in welcoming him. But besides all the warmth, he felt alienated. Within a few steps of his journey, he discovered something similar to what he was searching for and it gave such an intoxication to him that he got addicted to it and dwelt gaily in that place without any further pursuit, along with his peers. No sooner did he get comforted, he started growing weary by what he got and he&nbsp;couldn't&nbsp;dwell anymore. His appetite for the latest discovery had then been dead and he was disgusted to even stand there anymore. Most of his peers were too comfortable to leave the place though. Reluctant he was, to go back too soon, he walked further inside with a baffle. The better side of it was that there were companions willingly walked beside him, in his further quest. Unlike the initial phase of his journey, this second lap sucked a tad more of his time for his next discovery. The reduction of the peers whilst discovering, made him feel like a stand out and an essence of egotism was conceived in his bosom. He was an Übermensch, he thought. Also his latest dwell lasted a bit longer than the previous one. Like clockwork, his new discovery, too, got weary. But his newly grown egotism ordered him to strut further on his quest, brushing aside the&nbsp;bamboozling&nbsp;of the cowardly peers in subsiding him. As he pranced further &amp; further, his discoveries and weariness weaved a pattern for itself. After walking too deep into the path he realized, he was no more in the road but woods, with very few men beside him. He also observed that as each dwelling point passed he had to travel a lot more than the previous one to find a new one. Unaware to his conscious self, his driving motor slowly transitioned from egotism to egoism in the pursuit. His meager fellowmen, too, had scattered beyond the horizon of his vision as he kept walking and he became a solitary traveler. But his never ending appetite arousal and glorified ego drove his legs to advance. After a very long travel he found a new dwelling point. Rather than finding solace to his exhausting journey, he grew restless, for, he knew his dwell was not permanent and he had to&nbsp;carry-on&nbsp;a long deserted walk in the near future. He then let out a big sigh when the time has come indeed. Like a spellbound chap, he started running like a madman. After years of endless run, he was stopped by a dead end. All he saw was a well and nothing more. He realized he came too far to even hear any voices of&nbsp;advises. His volition was the only thing he could count on. He&nbsp;hadn't&nbsp;a clue about the depth of the well. Contemplating long at that dwelling point, he overcame all his baffling and jumped into the well with a conviction. He was an Übermensch, he felt. Alas, only he&nbsp;wasn't&nbsp;aware, there won’t be an eternal dwell.”, “thus ends the parable”, he said to his ten year old son. Verily, he knew there&nbsp;wasn't&nbsp;a word his son could have fathomed from his utter. But overfilled he was, with his wisdom, he gushed it out effortlessly to the only soul listening to his words, like a wet dream. Least was he bothered by the effect of his recital. He then laid back, relaxed, for, his burden of excess containing was unloaded. This new rejuvenation fueled his perceptive ego to run deeper, hoping to discover profuse profundity, into the bottomless well. He was an Übermensch, he knew.&nbsp; Alas, only he was aware there won’t be an eternal dwell.&nbsp;</div></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-38540081875366809842012-09-21T01:06:00.002-07:002012-09-21T01:06:36.459-07:00A PAINFUL DISGUISE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal">“So how do I know you’re not a chivato, too, Tony?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hey Sosa, let’s get this straight now. I never fucked anybody over in my life didn’t have it coming to them. You got that? All I have in this world is my balls and my word. And I don’t break them for no one. You understand?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">He felt a testosterone rush, about to gush out of all the holes on his body. That little piece of ‘Scarface’ made him feel like a cigar-munching mafia.<span>&nbsp; </span>“Why don’t you come out of that damn room and brush your teeth at least, for Christ’s sake?” That sudden scream of his mother broke a few glasses of his daydream wall and made him realize, he was lying on that bed, with his computer, for a very long time. He started walking out of his room with a swagger. He could feel a sense of power. He felt like, “Nobody tells me what to do”. The usual annoying factors from his parents seemed like a poor man’s cry for him, that time. He couldn’t care less about it. His reply for their cry had a flavor of command in it. In the mafia world running on his mind, he started hearing his dog’s barking and granny’s bout with the maid, in an out focus. As his dad went out to his office and mom started her routine cooking process, he was left out in the couch, ending up watching his granny’s favorite sitcom. He couldn’t stand it, when he actually paid an attention to the show. He felt like removing that whole crap from airing anymore, with a single command. But sooner did he realize, he didn’t even have the power to change his very own television’s channel, for, he has to go war with granny, for doing so. His testosterone started calming down and he could feel the reduction of that mafia intoxication. He desperately wanted to sustain that. But the reality didn’t allow him to do so. He tried to plug in his earphones to supply some ‘Godfather’ to retain one. But it couldn’t help, since his mother came out again, shouting at his idle status. He couldn’t help losing his cool this time and started battling with his mother. An abrupt end to the battle left him baffled and he started roaming restlessly around his home. But again his awareness came to play, which reinforced his fading mafia-world attitude, only to chuck all the restlessness and retain his latest gimmick. His will to power craved to command someone, but subtly. So he sat again on his couch with a feel of an emperor, choosing his mom for feeding his appetite. With a smoke-burnished tone he uttered “Mom, I feel like a cup of coffee and I prefer it black”. Taking a pride on the attitude in which he uttered those words, he expected his mom to come running down immediately, abiding his command. She didn’t turn up. He called her again, a little louder this time, “Mom, I’d like some coffee. BLACK!” She didn’t turn up. His voice kept on increasing, with an everlasting “MOM!!!” shedding its entire disguise in the process. Sadly, he couldn’t come out as a winner in that ordeal. That enraged him extremely, to lose his mind and trot towards the kitchen, to yell at her face to face, only to find out she wasn’t there at all, all that time. He felt totally lost now. Any level of awareness couldn’t find a trace of mafia in him anymore. His body went numb and mind dizzied. His mental faculties lost the ability to grasp his state of mind. His uncontrolled temperament started crawling slowly from his feet, lingering all around his body and assembling at his head, to collide and burst out as a loud scream from his mouth. The moment he opened his tightly closed eyes, after letting out the cry, he encountered an eyes, staring deeply at him, politely waiting for his orders. But he couldn’t feel a whit of power this time. After a long tail-shaking wait, the poor thing left the place, without receiving any orders. He stood numb, staring without a blink, at the oscillating tail, as it went back to its kennel. On the out focus of his stare, his television spoke, “I will make him an offer he can’t refuse”. </div></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522525073493335035.post-63944105385482711322012-09-11T14:38:00.003-07:002013-04-06T17:23:59.410-07:00THE ABYSS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><b></b> <br />"Striving for something better? well, what is better?!". The thought hit her so hard. Her constant introspection bombarded lots of questions on her. "Why is it so hard to find rationality in men", she thought. "Why rationality at all?", wondered a moment later. She constantly neutralized her questions, put to herself, without any intention of doing so. The solitary travel was playing her mind. She couldn't rest a second, even if she wanted to. Being clueless about the destination of her travel, she was determined, she cuts loose of all the ends clinging her. The emptiness in the train she travels was reflecting in her mind. A 'why?' was followed by a 'why should be a why?'. That never ending paradox was exhausting her. Whilst trying to ponder upon the contradictions entangling her, she observes a laziness lingering around, out of nowhere, only to drop all the thoughts and doze off. But, to her dismay, observation of her laziness pushed her into a new array of paradoxical questions. She felt an urge to not let go of her hunger, in an attempt to focus deep on her thoughts and intensify it. Upon consciously observing that sub-conscious action, which she performs automatically due to an inner setup she did to herself, she saw herself as a creature falling prey for a legend. That exhausted her to a whole new level and she slowly faded away from that thought, buying food with a numb mind. Staring profoundly outside the window whilst eating, she&nbsp;serenely&nbsp;observed the motion pattern of the street lights glowing in dark and configuring an ambiance to suit her melancholy. She would soon realize, her covered up consciousness was deliberately weaving that setup, only to subtly describe the vagueness she was battling. When realized, she felt a pin-prick to her intelligence upon discovering the cheapness of the subtlety, which led her raise a question, "Isn't cliched subtlety becoming cheap or is it just that I am too subtle to grasp it?". The pride she took was debunked by her very realization, followed by another pride. But she was well aware that the debunking is to be continued. She felt like standing in between two parallel mirrors. Never ending images. All she could gather was an understanding she had on her piled up thoughts. Her eternal&nbsp;contemplation&nbsp;slowly drowned her into slumber, leaning on the window and continuing her journey in the abyss, but in dreams this time. She was very fortunate that the street lights were still faithful in preserving the ambiance without her monitoring...<br /><div><ul class="uiList body contentListWidth"><li class="uiListItem uiListVerticalItemBorder"><br /></li></ul></div><div class="fixedScrolling" id="MessagingShelf"><div class="clearfix uiBoxGray topborder" id="MessagingShelfContent"><div class="MessagingComposer" id="MessagingInlineComposer"><div class="MessagingComposerForm"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="uiGrid"><tbody><tr><td class="vTop prs MessagingComposerFormLeft"><textarea class="uiTextareaAutogrow MessagingComposerBody DOMControl_placeholder" name="message_body" placeholder="Write a reply..." rows="1" style="height: 14px;" title="Write a reply...">Write a reply...</textarea></td><td class="vTop pls"><label class="uiButton uiButtonConfirm" for="uijpdb_5" id="MessagingSendReplyButton"></label><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div></div></div></div>aDzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04220622575705863832noreply@blogger.com2